I watched my mother
(Who had grown
All of her fingernails
Very long) choose
Not to dust or clean
The house that day
Instead she polished
Each pointy oval tip
A bright candy pink
Twice over then added
A translucent topcoat
And let them air-dry
While she eased back
Ignoring everything:
The kitchen, my father,
Even me, and leisured
To read Prisoner of Desire
On our old green sofa.
I enjoy these slice of life poems.
Yes, it really is a snapshot moment/memory I tried to capture. It’s all one sentence, too. 🙂